


Kidlock

by 221b_ee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: also sherlock is a little ooc, drama goes down, it's hard to write him as a kid ok, mentions of abuse, not to john though, sherlock doesn't know how to handle it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:51:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6795496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221b_ee/pseuds/221b_ee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a bad family life. He meets Sherlock. They fight in the park over rights to a park bench.</p>
<p>I'm probably never going to finish it because I was already a little meh about it and it really isn't that popular anyways. I might write another chapter if someone someday asks me to but the chances are low.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kidlock

John was used to the sound of things breaking. 

After this long, he almost didn't hear the shouting, either - or rather, he heard the shouting, but he didn't really listen for the words, like when you live in the city for a while and you just stop hearing cars go by. You know it's there, but it's so constant that you don't really _hear_ it. 

That didn't mean that he didn't hate it, though. Silence and peace were something that, no matter how hard he wished, he couldn't find at home. Even his room was affected by the sound carrying through the thin walls. If he wanted quiet, he went somewhere else. The park, for instance. 

That night, he thought, was definitely a park night. He knew it was a bad idea to be out alone at night, but he wasn't going to get any sleep at home, and he knew they wouldn't notice him missing. It was an easy thing to grab his jacket and trainers and slip out the door without being noticed. 

The park was only a few blocks away - several minutes of walking, but nothing terrible. He headed towards his favorite bench, which was right under a streetlight, and closed his eyes to soak up the silence. It was quiet, which was how he liked it - no one shouted here in the middle of the green, no smashing things, no other person, not at this hour. No one was awake, and it was so quiet that John could almost believe he was the only person in the world. 

That is, until someone sat down besides him with a _whump._

John opened one eye to glare at the person who had ruined his peace. It was a boy about his own age, give or take a year. He was lanky and thin, with dark curly hair that was long enough to almost cover up his dark eyes. He was wearing a button-down (at this hour of night?) and black dress pants and looked cross. 

"Hello," said John reproachfully. 

"Hm," the boy grunted. 

"If you don't mind, I was actually here first," said John politely, although still annoyed. The boy grunted again. 

"Well, I am here now. Go away," said the boy. John frowned. 

"This is my park bench. I come here at this hour and I was here first and you have just rudely sat down on it, so please go away," John said, trying to be polite and diplomatic when what he really wanted to do was just shove this kid off of his bench. 

"Wow, it's your bench? Well, in that case, prove it. I don't see your name on it," said the boy sarcastically. John pulled a marker from his jacket pocket and wrote his name. 

"I do," he said. The boy rolled his eyes. 

"Wow, I really feel beaten here. Next thing I know you'll be calling dibs," he told John. His voice was maddeningly superior, as though he was much better than John just because John had done something so petty as to write his name on a park bench. "And besides, watch this." He took his finger and rubbed the marker off. John gave him his worst glare; the boy didn't seem at all fazed. He ignored John, closed his eyes, and absolutely did not move. 

"What are you doing here anyways?" John asked. "It's the middle of the night. "Shouldn't you be at home or something?"

"Shouldn't you?" he said smugly, knowing he had beat John. 

"No. Go home, rich boy. Who wears a button-down and dress pants in the middle of the night, anyways? It's one in the morning," John said. He saw he had struck a sore point. The boy sat up and glared at John for a moment. There was a stare-down, which John won, and then, finally, the boy stood up and walked away. John closed his eyes again, victorious. 

All of a sudden he heard a scream right by his ear. He fell off the park bench trying to leap up in total terror and when he stood up and turned around he saw that boy laying on the park bench, stretched out to take up the whole thing, with the smuggest look John had ever seen on someone's face before. 

"Shouldn't you be asleep or something? It's one in the morning," smirked the boy. "I'm Sherlock. Nice to meet you. Go home and get out of my business." 

"I can't," said John. The fight in him had left suddenly. He didn't want to do this, he just wanted some peace and quiet, and this was anything but peaceful. Sherlock looked surprised. He obviously hadn't expected John to just give up. After a moment, he drew his legs up near him, leaving just enough room for John to sit down. 

"You can't," he said. John nodded. The boy waited for a reply and John intended to make him wait. 

The silence stretched on. 

Finally Sherlock gave up. "Why not?" he said, sounding more curious than anything. 

"Too much fighting. I can't sleep through all the noise. It's quiet here and there isn't all the yelling and the... the breaking things, you know?" he said. 

"Not really, but I understand," Sherlock said. 

"So why are you here?" John asked. 

"My brother. You see these stupid clothes? They weren't my idea. He had some event that the whole family was invited to and that, unfortunate as it is, includes me. I had to dress up so that _he_ wouldn't be shamed by me," said Sherlock. 

"Oh. ....So, how did you get to here at one in the morning?" John asked again. 

"He's insufferable and I couldn't stand to be in the house with him any longer," Sherlock said abruptly. "So I'm not." 

"Haven't you ever heard of muggers? It's dangerous to be out on the streets at night, you know," John said. He thought Sherlock was being stupid, frankly. 

"Say that to yourself," Sherlock retorted. 

"There's a difference. See, I could beat you up, but you couldn't beat me up, I'd bet," John said. 

"That a wager?" demanded Sherlock. 

"Obviously." 

"Fine. I accept. What are the terms?" he said. 

"Well, if you win the fight, you can have the park bench. I'll leave you alone," said John. He was fairly confident that he would win against this skinny stick of a boy. 

"And if you win, you can have it," said Sherlock. 

"Deal," said John. 

With no warning, Sherlock rushed him and almost knocked him over. John was considerably bigger than Sherlock, though, so he managed to stand his ground, just barely. Sliding his arm under Sherlock's armpit, he grabbed his wrist and bent his arm up and backwards. Sherlock yelped and let go of John for a moment, but then he regained his senses. He relaxed his arm completely and let it be bent back until it almost touched his back. John let go, disgusted. "How can your arm bend like that?! it's not natural! Ugh!" While he was distracted, Sherlock kicked behind his knee and knocked him to the ground, then did a complicated thing with his arms that left John's bent backwards towards the ground he was laying at with his elbow towards the sky. Sherlock forced it higher and higher until finally John, who couldn't get up, gave up. This had all happened in under a minute.

"Ever heard of jiu jitsu?" Sherlock asked smugly. "I've been training since I was four. Still think I couldn't take care of myself?" 

"Nicely done," John conceded grumpily. "I suppose you want the bench?" 

"No, you can have it," Sherlock said. "I just needed someone to fight with. I feel much better now. Do you need a place to sleep tonight that isn't... you know, home?" 

John just stared at him. 

"So all of that was just for...nothing?" he asked. 

"Yeah, I guess so. Yes or no? The offer still stands." 

"Well, what did we do all that for then?!" John exploded. 

"I just wanted a fight," said Sherlock. "That a no?"

"You know, it's a really stupid idea to go home with a stranger," John said. Sherlock nodded. 

"About as stupid as offering some stranger you met on the park who tried to beat you up a home for the night." 

"How far is it?"

"It's right there. You can see it from here, almost. I'm going; come if you want. We have a guest bedroom." And with that, Sherlock turned and walked away.


End file.
